


Darker Still

by Kialish



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Death by Machete, F/M, Hair Pulling, MacMillan Ironworks, No Lube, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Snuff, Vaginal Sex, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 11:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kialish/pseuds/Kialish
Summary: During a Trial, Meg is left as the last survivor standing with the Trapper, and he has different ideas on how to deal with her.





	Darker Still

Meg crept low to the ground, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead as she strained her hearing. The Trapper had gotten all the others, Dwight’s scream still fresh in her mind. He’d been the last, leaving her alone. Together they had managed one single generator, but that wasn’t enough for her to get the escape hatch. Now she had to dodge the intimidating beast of a man dubbed the Trapper  _ and  _ finish a generator before she had a sliver of a chance at surviving.

Right now, she was hiding behind the trunk of a tree trying to spot him. She’d seen him shuffling around the fog a ways off, but lost him. Careful not to step in any odd placed traps, she crept towards the next tree. 

She just had to keep calm and cool; there was still a chance of getting out. Her eyes fell on the flickering lights of a generator, the machine giving painful grinds. Hope leapt in her throat. This one at least had some progress made, it would take less time to finish fixing it. Licking her dry lips and giving quick glances to her surroundings, Meg began to work on the machine.

The grinding sound began to roll more smoothly as she went, pistons firing one after another. She was so close now, hope swelling in her chest as she reached for a wire and brushed it against the exposed copper of a different one. A spark lit, almost there… Then the machine let out a loud bang and a puff of smoke. Her heart sunk, head whipping around and braids flying as she waited.

Her heart began pounding in her ears, louder and louder. Not the kind of sound that came in dead silence, the kind of sound that announced the arrival of something far more sinister. The Trapper was gunning it for her, a shiver running down her spine as if to confirm her suspicions. She stood and braced herself, cold anxiety trickling around her neck as he came closer. Now she could make out his heavy footfalls, taking a running stance.

She bolted.

All her training in high school and she never would have thought this was where it would be needed most. Running for sport was one thing, but it definitely made running for survival that much easier. She left the Trapper in the dust, glancing back to see the man - or monster as he was at this point - stalking towards her, machete in tow. She looked forward again just in time to avoid slamming her face into a tree, dashing to the left.

A rusty shack rose before her, a chance to perhaps lose him and backtrack to the generator she had been working on. Ignoring the window, she ran around the side. There was a palette there, she could probably loop him and trick him into a stun if she were careful. A smirk on her lips, she threw another glance back at him and pumped her arms.

Her mistake was not looking down. 

A scream tore its way from her throat as the iron teeth of the bear trap snapped around her right ankle. She fell to her knee, pained whines falling from her lips as she tried to asses the damage. This was bad. All she had was her running, her ability to avoid the killers with speed. Her brain was going numb with panic, pins and needles up and down her arms. He was getting closer, heart beat pounding loudly in her skull. Biting down on her lower lip, she slid her fingers in between the teeth of the trap. Blood made her fingers slippery, hands shaking as she tried to pry it open.

The trap opened slightly, only for her fingers to slip and the trap to clench just as tightly around her leg again. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, the pain immense and numbing all at the same time. She just had to get out, she just had to move. She tried again, barely even noticing the taste of blood on her tongue as she bit through her tongue to silence a scream.

“C’mon….  _ C’moooon _ ….” Meg whispered through shuddered breaths. The pounding of the heartbeat was a drum now, her fingers slipping again and screaming in agony as the bear trap slid back into the flesh of her leg. 

A shiver went down her spine like a drop of ice, and she slowly turned to look behind her. The Trapper stood above her, watching her past his toothy mask. Hope was beginning to shrink away, fear an even more overwhelming presence.

“Please…” The beg fell from her lips before she could stop it, staring into the tiny eye holes of the mask. The man chuckled darkly, kneeling down and opening the bear trap. Meg pulled her leg free, crumpling to the ground as cool air stung against the wound. Before she could even make an attempt to run, she was being hauled up onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She didn’t even bother with a struggle, hopeless tears streaking clean marks down her dirty cheeks as she stared at the ground behind him. It wasn’t until she noticed he was walking past hooks that she began to wonder what he was doing. Panic had her throat tight, beginning to squirm in his ironclad grip. He was walking into the ironworks, the steady thrum of the single generator puttering in the distance. If she could get lose, she could limp up the stairs, try to lose him there… Grunting, she put more effort into her movements, adrenaline fueling her need to escape more than pain in her ankle could quench.

Without warning, she was thrown down onto a wooden crate, yelping at the action. The Trapper hovered over her, taking his machete and slamming it into the wood. Meg flinched, trying to back away from him and finding her back against the network of massive metal pipes. The man  rested on his palms and leaned towards her, Meg pulling back as his masked face came closer to hers. A hand raised and took one of her braids, pulling it to the mouth of the mask where he took a deep breath. 

Was he… smelling her? Meg swallowed hard, looking around for some sort of escape. He was body blocking her, forcing her to stay on the crate in these confined quarters. Before she could make a choice or attempt to slide under his arm, his grip on her hair tightened and he yanked her forward. She cried out in pain as her face was pulled closer to him. Now she could hear his growl behind the mask, almost feral. He released her hair and pulled her hips closer to him, nails digging into her sweats. A new fear arose, heart leaping into her throat. He wouldn’t- He wasn’t going to-

As if to prove her fears true, the Trapper pushed his hand beneath the elastic of her pants. She gasped more in outrage than shock when his coarse fingers rubbed against her slit, squirming away from the touch. In an attempt to distance herself, Meg pushed against his chest with both hands, earning a displeased grunt. Her attempts didn’t do much, the man completely unphased. He slid a finger between her lips, rough and impatient, before moving his free hand up around her waist. He could practically hold her with one hand, thumb tickling the curve of her hips.

“Please don’t…” She breathed, making an involuntary noise as his finger rubbed over her clit. 

He pulled his hand away, and for a brief moment she thought he was actually going to take pity on her. But then he tore off her sweat pants and underwear, yanking at her still bleeding ankle and earning a strangled cry of pain. She fell onto her back, face flushed red as he stared at her. Her legs were quaking, knees reactively coming together. The Trapper wrenched them open, positioning himself between them and looming over her.

She was crying again, defeated and humiliated. He pulled off her shirt next, pushing her sports bra above her breasts so that they hung free. The bra held them flatter for running, but now they were out in full view, nipples hard in the cool air. The Trapper grabbed her hips and yanked her closer, tilting his head as he looked her up and down. Or at least, Meg assumed, since she couldn’t even see his eyes past the cracked and dented mask. She hated feeling so exposed and helpless, heart stuck in her throat and tears hot with fear as they spilled over her cheek.

With one hand, he undid a section of the heavy coveralls he was wearing and pulled out his cock. Megs eyes went wide as she saw his length, thick and as cracked looking as the rest of his skin. In the back of her mind she was grateful that it lacked the metal spikes and bars that decorated his shoulders and arms, though she knew this was going to hurt regardless. 

He stroked himself a few times, cock growing as it became hard in his hand and letting out an eager groan. Meg swallowed hard, pleading with the Entity itself to intervene. She didn’t know if it would, the malicious god that ruled this realm wanted the survivors to break. And Meg was quickly feeling herself coming to that point. Days, weeks, months, insurmountable time going through trial after trial, dying on hook, bleeding out, left to the devices of the killer. And now this.

The Trapper, one hand still firmly holding her hip, ran his calloused hands over her cunt, pushing in his middle finger and earning a squeak as Meg tensed. She didn’t want this, there was little wetness to ease the imposing finger inside of her, but he wasn’t going to wait. As he pulled his finger out of her, he pulled her up, Meg raising her arms to his chest involuntarily as his hand pressed against her back. He presented his fingers to her mouth and she shook her head, pursing her lips. Tilting his head, he found the base of her braids and twisted them hard. When she let out a cry of pain, he pushed in his index and middle finger. His hands were massive, Meg finding herself choking on just those two fingers as they pushed against her tongue.

His flesh tasted like blood and metal and dirt, Meg gagging as they stroked the inside of her mouth. She banged her fist against his chest, more tears running from her eyes as she coughed and drool ran from the corner of her lips. In a sudden need to breath, to stop choking on his fingers, Meg bit down as hard as she could muster, hoping perhaps to catch him off guard. The man didn’t even flinch, even as Meg could taste warm, fresh copper on her tongue. He resorted to hair pulling again, harder this time and nearly snapping her neck. She released easily, blood and drool sliding down her chin as she gasped for breath.

His grip on her hair released and before she could react, he pushed her back down onto the wooden crate roughly. Without warning, the Trapper shoved both fingers inside of her, slick with blood and saliva but still hardly enough. She cried out at the intrusion and squirmed, his other hand cupping one of her breasts and fondling it roughly. Gritting her teeth, Meg tried to pull away from him still, more of an instinctual reaction than anything. He fucked her with his fingers, thrusting them in and out and reaching for that spot inside of her. 

She could feel herself becoming wetter in his hands, reacting to the thick fingers inside of her. His fingers ran over her exposed breast, tweaking her nipples roughly and chuckling when she made indignant noises of frustration.  When he pulled out his fingers, she found her cunt throbbing, almost missing the thickness inside of her. But she didn’t want this, a tremble still running down her body as her face burned hot.

The head of his cock pressed against her slit and she felt panic rise in her throat again. This was much bigger than his fingers, the head slick and hot and massive. She closed her eyes and braced herself, noting how his hands were back on her hips now, holding her steady.

She screamed when he pushed into her, pain splitting up her middle. He was absolutely big, nails digging into her hips as he thrust as deeply as he could inside of her. The world was spotty and hazy with the agony, knowing something must have torn down there. Her breaths were accompanied by small whines, slightly grateful he was at least giving a brief time for her to adjust to the girth. But it was brief.

He pulled out slightly and thrust back in, a fresh wave of pain rolling over her. She clenched her teeth, only to gasp as tears sprung from the corners of her eyes. Her hands grabbed at the wood of the crate beneath her, feeling splinters slide under her nails. He thrust again and again, finding a steady rhythm as he went. His breathing became quick pants, groans of ecstasy coming from beneath the toothy mask. He leaned over her, giving more push to his thrust as she cried out, raising her hands to his chest, grabbing at the straps of his coveralls. She needed to hold onto something, needed to ground herself somehow as the pain began to give way to a more lustful heat. She could smell the sweat rolling off of him, mixing with the distinct burnt metal smell he carried with him. 

Her screams became moans, pain melding with need as he thrust into her, hands holding onto him as he fucked her. He was so close to her face now, she could almost see past the darker shadows of the mask. She could make out his mouth, lips parted as he grunted and growled, brain a haze from the pain and ecstasy. Raising a hand, she touched the mask. Before she could do anything more than that, he grabbed both her hands around the wrist and slammed them down, fucking her faster and harder than before.

Pain burned through again, gut churning as she squeezed her eyes shut. His breath came out in a steady growl, hands painfully tight around her hands as her body bounced with his movements. 

His movements began to become more irregular and jerky, thrusting in and out of her before her gave a final push and tensed. Meg could feel it spill into her, his cock twitching as it emptied itself within her. Hazily, she wondered if a thing like pregnancy could even happen in the Entities world, but the thought was pushed far back as she realized she could barely feel her legs.

She raised her head slightly, glancing at her stomach and noticing the almost grotesque way her stomach bulged with his cock and cum filling her. Head falling back, she felt him release her hands and pulled upright, still inside of her. Her tears had run dry, leaving her panting for breath with choked sobs and unwilling to even sit upright.

Not that she had the choice to do so. She didn’t even hear the sound of the machete being pulled out of the wood of the crate, cradled in its owner’s hand once more. She’d forgotten it entirely, until it was suddenly shoved through her chest. Meg gasped, the action causing pain to blossom from the lung the knife had punctured. Wide eyes found the knife buried in her chest, the woman heaving a cough that brought blood on her tongue. It was something she should have expected, something she would have been grateful for in any other universe. The release of death, leaving this all behind.

Raising a shaky hand, she grabbed at the hilt of machete, unable to muster the strength to pull it out as her heart gave weaker and weaker pulses. The world was becoming spotty around the edges, breathing difficult with a punctured lung and severed heart. She felt the Trapper pull out of her, feeling darkness wrap around her sight and mind as the ironworks began to fade away. Her hand fell from the blade, a final hiss of air escaping her lungs as everything went black.


End file.
